The Alteration
by chantpleure
Summary: In the midst of a war, she finds herself in a place she never thought she would see, with people she never expected to meet, and with only one goal in mind- fix the past in order to save the future. Marauders era. Time-turner fic. hg/sb jp/le
1. une

It was plain that the time had come for more drastic actions. After a year, the war was still at a point where it would go both ways and showed no signs of slowing. As far as anyone could tell, the end wasn't near.

Casualties on both sides were heavy; however, the Death Eaters were in the practice of taking prisoners during the fight at Hogwarts. It seemed as though the Killing Curse just wasn't as exhilarating for them as it had been in the beginning. Now, they had perfected their Petrificus Totalus charms, and froze girls fighting in the war. They would then take them back to their Death Eater hideout, and have their way with them, before handing them right back to the side of the phoenix.

Harry was still in pursuit of the fifth horcrux- a piece of Voldemort's soul contained in the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw.

Ron Weasley was dead.

And Hermione Granger was nowhere to be found.

"Duck!"

"Nice one!"

"No! PLEASE!"

"You've almost got 'em!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Hannah!"

Justin Finch-Fletchey had believed this war was one of the worst experiences he would ever face. Before his eyes he had seen schoolmates turn on each other and throw the most unforgivable curses on one another.

Now that he thought about it, the curses he had been taught by the Mad-Eye Moody impersonator could not have been the worst that have ever been created. The spells and curses that Justin had seen fly across the once cheery and grassy courtyard; they could not even be described by 'unforgivable'. Perhaps 'unmentionable' was more appropriate.

But even after all that he had seen, nothing had been more terrifying, or nauseating as watching the only girl he had ever loved being taken away from him. Ever since he had met her, he knew that she was something, and now that he knew she was the one, it hurt even more. Justin watched as she was petrified by Antonin Dolohov and was apparated away. He knew she would be back, but he didn't know how she would be once she was back.

Would she be okay?

Would she come back in one piece?

Would she ever be able to get over all of this?

Would her _mind_ be okay?

Assuming they survived this, probably not. The girls that had come back from their time with the Death Eaters were not quite right ever since, and not only was that hard for the people who loved them, it was hard for the resistance. The amount of girls being hurt was growing, and no one was sure how much more anyone could take.

Seamus Finnegan had already lost his mind, although no one quite knew why.

The Patil sisters were both in bed rest and unable to fight, they were both with the Death Eaters for a few weeks, at the same time. Rumor had it; they had to watch one another be tortured and raped, although they never said anything about their experience.

Cho Chang killed herself after returning from a week with Rodolphus Lestrange.

After watching his brother's body be turned inside out, go right back, and then be torn apart, Dennis Creevey was unable to function for days, and had only recently come back in to the fight. But even after two weeks under the care of medics, his skills were not what they had been before, and nowhere near what was needed to survive.

Justin did his best to not even remember Sally-Anne Perks, the girl who'd had each and every one of her bones broken, one-by-one, in the middle of the battle. No one could help her after being preoccupied by their own battles.

Who would be the next victim?

Merlin, how much more could they take?

Draco Malfoy stood in the astronomy tower, eager to see this battle over. He didn't even care what side won. He just needed to hear the screaming stop. It reminded him too much of the way his mother screamed before his dad killed her. He looked up at the dark night sky- no stars were visible, only the slight curve of shining moon, glinting the way a dagger would in the light. He hadn't seen the stars out for a long time. He supposed it was because of all the fires or something, which caused the air to pollute, and become too dense to spot ant sort of constellations.

Contrary to popular belief, Potions wasn't his favorite subject. Snape, although he was Draco's godfather, still scared him. Instead, Draco found comfort in Astronomy. There was just something about being able to go outside at night and see the stories of the past with your own eyes. But more than that, he liked to believe that his future was somewhat like the stars- bright and shining. He knew that even in the darkest of nights, even the farthest, smallest star is visible. Perhaps, in this godforsaken war, he would be that star- a hero, better than Potter ever was or supposedly will be.

Draco leaned over the cool, stone railing of the tower, and breathed in the cool, night air. He was looking down at the Black Lake, which had been sparkling from the reflection of the moon, when he heard footsteps. His head snapped to their direction, as was his wand.

From the stairwell came his father, looking more meticulously groomed and dressed than Draco had seen for some time. He had been home.

"Hello Draco," Lucius said, leaning on the railing.

He gave Lucius a nod acknowledging his presence, before staring back out at the night sky. It was quiet, if they could disregard the battle raging only a few stories below.

Draco studied his father for a moment- he looked as he did when Draco was a child. His long blonde hair was pin-straight and neatly parted at the side of his head. His dark robes were completely clean, with not so much as a single piece of lint, and his wand was still impeccably cared for in the long black cane that had a silver snake's head adorning the top. How could this be the man Draco had wanted to be? Lucius looked exactly the same, and he acted the same as he did years ago. What had changed?

Lucius cleared his throat, the silence beginning to take its toll- he had never been a patient man. "Draco," he began. "It's come to my attention that you haven't come home to take part in the festivities."

Draco spun around at his father, fighting the bile threatening to rise up his throat. He called taking girls and torturing them- "Festivities? The war is not over, we have not won!"

His father raised a brow at him, "Is there something on your mind?"

"No. I apologize. What I meant to say is, I mean," Damn the one man who could make Draco feel like he was still a child. "Shouldn't we be fighting instead of taking part in the, ah, festivities? To guarantee our win."

"Why, Draco, if I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were sympathetic to the side of mudbloods and blood-traitors." Then he did something Draco hadn't seen on him in a while- he smiled with his shiny, pointed teeth. Draco repressed the need to shiver. "Of course, we both know that's impossible. We are the Malfoys. When this war is over, we will have the world bowing down to our family, and all this," he gestured grandly to the grounds of Hogwarts, "will be ours."

"Of course, father." Draco didn't know what else to say.

"And about our celebrations, I trust you'll be coming home to visit and have a little… fun?"

"Of course," he repeated.

"Good."

And with a quiet pop! He was gone.

Draco sighed in quiet relief. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and looked down at the battle below him.

He apparated to the former Ministry of Magic exactly two minutes later.

Fernir Grayback was the first he saw. Still a man, he walked through the halls and nodded at Draco as he passed him, drop dripping from his mouth, and his eyes still cloudy. Draco had the hardest time not throwing up right there and then.

He fought the bile down and made his way to the Department of Mysteries. It was a dark place; dark tiles, ceilings and walls. At the end of the hallway there were 7 doors. That was where everyone seemed to crowd in, and where he was expected to make his appearance. As he got closer and closer, the stench of sex and blood grew stronger and stronger. How many of the people in there did he go to school with? Eat dinner with? Partner up in classes with? How many would die tonight?

Finally, he reached the center of the Department, where he saw his father's glint of platinum blonde hair. He was standing over a body. It was Hermione Granger.

He quickened his steps over to his father, as he did, he examined her body. The slight rise and give of her chest told him she was still alive. Good.

"Father." He nodded his head respectfully.

"Draco, I have found you a girl." His father smirked at him, as though Draco had won the biggest prize in the lottery. "You know her, don't you?"

There was no sense in lying. "Yes. She's a filthy mudblood."

Lucius nodded his head, "I thought so. You may take the room to your left."

Draco made a movement to pick her up when-

"Draco. Actually, she's Potter's mudblood, isn't she?"

"I suppose so." How was he keeping the fear and trepidation out of his voice?

"Take her inside, I will bring some people in, I think the Dark Lord would want to see this."

Draco gagged mentally, '.

"Of course father." He steadied his voice and scooped her up in his arms. He opened the door with one hand, and shut it after walking in. The room he walked in was the Room of Time. He had heard his father talking about this sometime before. Lining the walls were thousands of tiny, glittering time-turners. Then on the floor were larger hourglasses, each dropping little grains of sand, one-by-one.

Draco placed her on the cold tile and shook Hermione awake, hoping and praying he would have enough time. "Granger! Granger dammit, wake up!" She moaned in response, her eyes fluttering open. They stayed half closed for a second, but they snapped open after having assessed her situation.

"Malfoy!" she snarled, bloody, matted curls flying in front of her face. "What are you doing?"

"We don't have any time, but you need to know that everything I'm going to do tonight, I am so sorry."

"What are you talking about?" she sounded angry. Of course she did.

"Please, just," Draco took a deep, sharp breath, "Forgive me for what I'm going to do," He glanced frantically at the door, only to see it opening. Draco closed his eyes briefly before snapping them open. He struck her face, hoping some mark would show, and it hopefully would be one he could show to prove he was on their side, even if he wasn't sure about his loyalties. The slap was reminiscent of when she had hit him in third year. Hermione looked up at him, defiant, but not scared; her eyes glanced over to the door, where the knob was turning. She breathed deeply through her mouth a few times to calm her nerves.

He was amazed for a second how good she looked. It disgusted him to think it could even be possible, but Hermione seemed to pull off the war look, with her dark pants and boots, and bag over her shoulders, curls falling everywhere.

The door opened, his father came through first, but only so he could guide Voldemort. He was as frightening as ever, eyes like blood, papery skin the color of death, and a face like that of a snake. The air seemed to cool, and the only noise he could hear was the light slippery sound of Nagini slithering on the floor and the slight swish of the Dark Lord's robes as he made his way to the center of the room. Following them were Lucius, Bellatrix Lestrange, Fernir Grayback, and a few others that Draco cared little about.

"Draco, my boy," the Dark Lord said, raising his hand. Draco took that as his sign to rise up into a kneeling position, with his head bent. Hermione was still at his side, still breathing audibly and looking anywhere but the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Things were quite still for a moment, and Draco looked up at Voldemort, straight into his red eyes. "Draco," he hissed, smirking sadistically, "break her." He conjured a chair, and others followed his lead, conjuring their own.

Draco knew what he had to do.

He walked back over to Granger and grabbed her by her curly, tangled hair roughly. She didn't make any sounds, just looking right into his eyes. How was he supposed to do this if she looked at him like that?

"Get on with it boy!" Voldemort snapped. The other Death Eaters, his father included, murmured in agreement.

Draco sighed painfully and slowly. He pulled her pants down to her knees roughly, leaving tiny, black panties, she struggled against him valiantly, kicking and hitting any part of him that he could, but it wasn't enough, he was so much bigger than her. Putting one hand around her neck to stop her moving, he pulled his own pants down. He wasted no time, not to prolong this for anyone, and he hooked her underwear with his finger, and stuck himself inside her. He fit, and it felt amazing, but it was so wrong. Part of him felt all the things he did with any other woman, but the other part? It was disgusted with himself. This was rape. She didn't scream still, and she wasn't a virgin. He continually pounded himself against her, whispering a nearly inaudible sorry to her. While he was apologetic, he didn't want to die. He didn't, and he was hoping the way he struck her body against the floor would be a sufficient amount of violence to please the Dark Lord, it wasn't.

Bellatrix or Lucius or someone, was unhappy with the show, and a Cruciatus curse was sent in the direction of Hermione, it struck her in the chest and her body rippled violently around and beneath him. Voldemort seemed to like that punishment, and soon Cruciatus curses were being sent every few seconds. He pulled himself out of her, and watched in horror as she was being lifted off the floor every time the curse was sent.

He closed his eyes and made a decision, not all Slytherin were cowards like the Dark Lord and his followers. He was _not _a coward. He pulled his wand from the arm guard he was wearing under his shirt, and took a breath from his nose.

Draco let out a cry, loud, but hoarse, something he expected to hear from an animal. The cursing and shouting stopped and all eyes turned to him. He didn't look at any of them, and instead, with a flick of his wand, he let out a powerful spell, unleashing powerful winds. The force of it blew some of the Death Eaters out of the room, and Voldemort as well, but he did nothing, and just stared at Draco, _through Draco. _

The winds sent the time turners clattering to the floor, and he could feel something happening. Something bigger than what he had planned. All the sand from the time turner had settled on the floor and on Hermione, leaving a light layer of the glittery stuff everywhere, but the grains weren't staying still. They were rising from the floor, twirling and moving about.

The last of the Death Eaters ran out of the room, but Draco stayed. He didn't move, he just let the sand work around him, and he could feel parts of him changing, moving in his body. He let himself be taken by it. Draco didn't allow himself to look at Hermione, he would wait after whatever was happening.

He wondered where it would take him. _When_ it would take him, time turners- broken or not- were dangerous things to be dealing with, after all. Draco didn't get to see where it would end up. He wasn't in the room long enough, he was pulled out by his father with a spell, and then he lasted long enough to hear the door behind him closing, with Hermione still in the room, and him having a green light being sent his way.

But, in the seconds before his death, he was a hero, he thought to himself.

And then, he was nothing.


	2. deux

Hermione woke up to the sound of laughter.

She instinctively gripped her wand from her sleeve, just in case, and kept very, very still.

"Ah, did you see the look on Snivellus' face? Priceless, I tell you."

Snivellus? Where had she heard that before?

"Yeah, poor old Snape. What's he going to do when we graduate? No woman will want him!"

Snivellus, Snape. Hermione draws a sharp breath. She'd only heard of two people to ever call Snape that.

"Padfoot! Right you are!"

"Hm, I believe this incident calls for a refurnishing of the map."

"Moony? Are you suggesting-"

"No! He couldn't! Could he?"

"He can!"

"Welcome to the dark side."

"We've got better cookies, better brooms, and hotter chicks."

Padfoot and Moony, alive and well. The other voice must've been James Potter, Harry's _dad._ She had to be in the 1970s. But how? She slowly opened her eyes a bit, just enough for her to peek through her long eyelashes. Blue skies above, green grass below and trees all around. She opens her eyes, fully this time, and sat up gingerly. Her sides were aching, and the space between her legs was sore. Her pants were at her knees, and her panties were ruined closed her eyes briefly, recalling the previous events that brought her here.

Malfoy, his hands everywhere, the time turners.

She peeked past the large trees and saw a hut. Hagrid's. Thankfully, not much changed. She must've been in the Forbidden Forest. Just beyond the hut, were the four boys, laughing and playing what seemed to be a game of exploding snap.

Apparation in to the castle was out of the question. _Everyone _knows that you can't apparate within Hogwarts. She couldn't fly on a broom, because she simply couldn't. And of course, she couldn't just walk up to them.

So, Hermione decided, she'd wait. She laid back down on the cool, dewy grass and closed her eyes.

Sleep came more easily than it had in all her years at Hogwarts, but her dreams were dark- Malfoy, murmuring "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over again as he pushed himself into her; flashes of green light from every direction; bloody streaks along staircases and the wounds: fatal and gruesome, that affected her friends.

Sometime passed, and when she woke up again, the sky was dark and the grounds were silent. Hermione silently pulled herself off the ground, dusted herself off and re-laced her loosening dragon-hide boots; her pants were readjusted, as was her torn black shirt. She pulled off the black straps that held her wand and other little useful items, and stuffed the dragon skin arm guards she had laying next to her and a knife she had hidden on her inner thigh into the pockets of a little black bag (which had been enhanced by an Undetectable Extension charm), and pulled out a thick roll of gauze.

Carefully, Hermione wrapped the gauze around the slice on her left leg, forearm, and right thigh; and then, as an extra measure, she wrapped her abdomen as well- no one needed to see her scars. She attempted to walk, and it wasn't too bad. A sharp pain shot up her right leg with every step, and her left leg was wrapped so tightly it was numb.

Hermione made her way up to Hogwarts on the dirt path she, Harry, and Ron had frequented during their time there. She looked over at Hagrid's hut, which looked almost exactly the same, maybe a little better. The journey took a little longer than she remembered it to be, probably because of her legs, or maybe all of her memories coming back.

Hermione stood in front of the entrance of the Great Hall. It was as grand as she had remembered, if not grander. Thankfully, she noticed, as she had clambered through the gates, the school had somehow recognized her, and hadn't thrown her out of its walls.

The large doors of the Great Hall were opened a crack. Students were sitting in the Great Hall, talking loudly amongst themselves. Hermione looked down at herself, to make sure she was still presentable-her gauze was beginning to show the blood it was covering underneath, and she was sure that she looked like hell, but otherwise, all of her other clothing mishaps were not things that she deemed important. So, it was now or never, and right now, now was looking pretty damn good. She took a deep breath, and pushed through the doors.

Of course, the minute she walked through, with her bleeding bandages, torn-up clothing, dragon-hide boots, and matted, disgusting hair, the talking ceased. Every head turned towards her, and that's when the whispering started. It wasn't unlike the sounds made when Alastor Moody had walked in to the Great Hall on the first day of her fourth year.

'I suppose I must be _their_ Alastor Moody," she mused. She trudged over to the Head Table, where Dumbledore had stood up, as well as a much younger looking McGonagall. She came up to Dumbledore's seat, and he bent his head towards her, as she leaned in to his ear.

"Professor-" she whispered. And then what was left of her world went black.

She woke up in the Infirmary, and it looked exactly the same. She was thankful for that, it was something else familiar, and that comforted her. Her bandages were re-done in a clean new gauze and her shoes were on the side of her bed, but her little beaded bag was nowhere to be found.

She tried to pull herself up, but found that she couldn't. Her stomach hurt too much to really do much of anything. Instead, Hermione just let her head fall on her pillow and let glorious sleep take her once again.

The next time she woke up, it was with the help of a considerably younger Madam Pomfrey and her ghastly Smelling Salts. She had never actually smelt the things directly before. The only time she was even near some was when she had been sitting near Harry while Madam Pomfrey had been trying to wake him up. Her eyes snapped open. This time, her body was a lot less sore, and the gauze was no longer there, instead her arms were simply covered in little scars. 'They weren't nearly as bad as her others,' she thought.

Madam Pomfrey helped sit her up, and Dumbledore then walked in. He had been wearing his twinkling blue robes, she recognized that these were the ones he kept for the first two weeks of school. That means she would've been in the first couple weeks of a new school year in about… she did some quick calculations… if the Marauders were in school, and they sounded quite old now…she was, perhaps, the late 1970s- maybe about 1976 or 1977.

Hermione blinked slowly.

She was in the 1970s.

The Marauders were in school.

Dumbledore was alive.

The war hadn't happened yet.

_She_ wasn't even alive yet.

James and Lily weren't murdered yet, hell, if she could remember correctly from Sirius' stories, they didn't even like each other yet. Not even a little bit.

Frank and Alice Longbottom were happy, and alive, and well.

If she played her cards just right, they would all stay alive.

Maybe, in twenty or so years, Harry would be living happily with his parents, and they would take him to Platform 9 and ¾, and Voldemort would be nothing but a scary story from their past. Peter Pettigrew might have never turned bad, and Sirius Black would never go to Azkaban.

There was a chance, she could maybe fix everything that ever went wrong- stop Voldemort before he truly started. But, terrible things have happened to people who mess with time. She knew this, she lived by it throughout her third year. Yet, it was so tempting, and it wasn't as if she could ever go back to her old life, at least not the way she left it.

"Thinking about something?" Hermione snapped her head up, she had forgotten the Headmaster was still there.

"Yes, of the past." It was true, she was thinking about what would change in her past, if she did all of these things. She took a second to examine the man before her. He was supposed to be dead, and she was supposed to be fighting a war. Nothing was right, but she took more comfort in seeing him. His wrinkled face was that of a grandfather's- wise, but kind. Exactly how she remembered him, with a few less wrinkles, but it was enough for her.

Dumbledore nodded sagely, and unlike other times in which people had done it in front of her, there was nothing comical about it. "I find the past to be quite tiresome, but one can never have a proper future without it."

Hermione contemplated his words carefully, before starting, "Well, Professor, the future. That's what I wish to talk to you about." Her voice was terrible, dry and completely hoarse. She couldn't recognize it, but that's what happens after months of screaming curses and hexes, with little conversation.

"You call me Professor, yet, I've never seen you before." He didn't look completely confused, just curious. He was so… Dumbledore. It was refreshing, to see curious, selfless eyes, although she had never gotten used to the sight of greedy, angry, hateful eyes. Bloodthirsty or simply exhausted. It was all still so foreign, so out of place for her.

"Yes, that's what I'm getting to," she took a deep breath and prayed to Merlin, and Harry, and the Potters, and to anyone else who had enough bravery that they could spare some for her right now. "My name is Hermione Granger. I go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am a Gryffindor, and I was born on September 19, 1979." She peeked up at Dumbledore, who was stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"I see, I would think that you are not supposed to tell me about the future, but it is all good, I hope." He beamed, grasping at the chance of a bright tomorrow, one where everything would be right and equal.

"Professor, the future is terrible." Hermione sighed loudly and his face crumpled into a serious expression instantaneously. Wrapping her arms around her self- when did she get so skinny?- "and I am going to tell you all about it, because we are going to prevent it."

Dumbledore looked at her, "How bad is it?" he asked, frowning.

Gone was the man she had remembered from her childhood _(wasn't she still a child? when did she stop being a child, happy and carefree?), _happy and optimistic, with love as the greatest weapon. Here was Dumbledore, the leader of the Order of Phoenix and defender of evil, and he frightened her. Not that it wasn't something she hadn't seen before. She had seen it, but before the war. Now she could look in his eyes and see his battle scars, the way she knew that he could do the same.

"The ministry is gone, the Order is almost completely demised, and rebels are being found and executed every day." She recalled.

"Is this Grindewald's doing?" he sounded apprehensive. She paused before answering, thinking. What was it like to be in love with the man you were supposed to hate? He didn't even seem surprised at the mention of the Order of Phoenix, plans for it must have already been underway.

"No. Voldemort." Her voice came out strong. This was the first time she had said his name in a while, because of fear of the Taboo upon it, and saying made her feel strong once again. She had nothing to fear yet.

Dumbledore stiffened. "I feared as much." He closed his eyes momentarily, and when he opened them, he looked older than he had even in the future. "Tell me everything," his voice sounded aged and weary, and for a moment, Hermione thought he would pass out right there. Could he handle the cold truth, the hurt and pain and anger and terrible things that had been happening around her?

But she complied anyway.

* * *

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	3. trois

The Alteration

_trois. _

Albus Dumbledore listened to the girl carefully. He did not interrupt her and he did not question her. However, he did not fully trust her.

She told him of a future of darkness- Voldemort had fallen and then returned to power, his army was growing by the day, the Order's numbers were quickly dwindling. Maybe he truly didn't believe it, or maybe he simply didn't want to believe it.

Is this really what was waiting in their future? Hatred and pain and hurt and loss and emptiness. He knew all the feelings. He knew what it was like to lose. Once in his very long life, and it hurt like nothing else. It consumed his very being, and for a time, Dumbledore truly wondered if the world would be better off without the power-hungry, overly ambitious young man he had been.

And this girl.

This _child_.

She had experienced the pain over and over and over and over, and when that wasn't enough, she was sent here. This was a place where she would be watching her friends grow up in a few years. Dumbledore didn't say it just yet, but he knew, and, a little voice in his brain told him, she knew, there was no way she could go back. Ever. She would be forced to live life again, and relive all of the pain and suffering she had endured.

_At least_, the dark part of his mind told him, the side that he had locked up when Grindewald left, _in death, she could've been at peace. She would have been happy. She could see all the people she cared about again. Death was the easier option. _ But Dumbledore shut that thought firmly in his mind. If this girl was one to take the easier option, then she would already be a slave, or dead, without a fight.

Her pain was very much beyond what he had experienced, and as she told him of all the things that had happened, her voice stayed in a monotone. Dumbledore didn't need his talent for reading people to see that she was keeping so much from him.

It wasn't that she was leaving out the exact details of the war, but she wasn't telling him about who had died, and what they were to her. Were her parents dead because of the war? How about her friends? Who did she care about? Who did she leave behind when she came here? Did she even have anything left that was worth losing?

Her words told him yes, there were people she cared about. But her eyes told him otherwise. The people she cared about the most, the ones she would give her life for- to hell with consequences- they were gone. Long gone.

Hermione's tale took only fifteen minutes of his time- which, for him, was no time at all, but for her, was most likely a lifetime-and he saw her let out a sigh. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both of them thinking to themselves. He contemplated her story- and while he didn't _want t_o believe it, doesn't mean he shouldn't.

"And that Professor, is my story." She finished. Her throat was unbelievably sore and dry, and her eyes were burning with tears she didn't to allow to fall. Even after her long slumber, her eyes were already fluttering, aching for more rest. Hermione had just finished telling her life's story, and it somehow, it seemed so far, far away- a lifetime away.

And she was just so, so tired of everything- all the hate, and blood, and murder. She had just compacted her life into fifteen short minutes, but looking back, although she was already eighteen, she already felt so _old._

Sometimes, when she had been searching for horcruxes with Harry and Ron, she would imagine being able to just stay there and grow old with them, and then when Ron left, the idea seemed even more appealing. It could've happened. She and Harry loved each other so much, and although it wasn't really a romantic, sexual kind of love, it could have been, but he had Ginny. He and Ginny were so perfect for each other, it almost hurt Hermione to see it. She didn't feel the same heart stopping, breath-stealing love for Ron, or anyone else for that matter. And now, it seemed, she never would.

Was this the end of her life? Live out whatever time she had left, or kill herself to prevent any changes in the future, or change everything- the fate of the Potters and Sirius Black's imprisonment and the Longbottoms' mental health and save Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape from a future that none of them really deserved. The final choice was so tempting, but so dangerous.

Hermione wanted to be able to give Harry the perfect future he had always dreamed of, but what would be the consequences? Who would be lost, because loss really was inevitable, and who would be saved?

"Professor?" she broke the silence timidly, "I have to know-"

"If you can change the future, yes?" His clear blue eyes really knew everything.

"Well, yes… I know what needs to be done, and if I do it now, the future would be so much better. I know it would." She added resolutely.

"I think, if one treads carefully, Miss Granger, certain changes can be made..."

Hermione smiled a wide smile that stretched painfully across her dry face, but she didn't care. Harry would live a happy, proper life, and that's all she needed to know.

Dumbledore stood up, his long robes swaying gently, "It is time, I believe, to let you get some rest Miss Granger." Hermione's eyes already began to flutter close, and she began to struggle keeping them open. "When you wake, you can find me in my office…" And she had already reached blissful oblivion.

When she woke properly again, she had no idea when it was. She woke several times, in between, but only for a few minutes, before slipping away again. In some pieces she remembers warm food being put in her mouth, and cool water sliding down her throat. This time was different, more lucid. The hospital wing was lit by the natural sun, but it was a cool light, meaning it must've been early morning, perhaps 6 or 7.

Hermione pushed herself up and then back on to the headboard of the bed. She hissed in pain, when her head made contact with the headboard, the spot still tender from her previous injuries. The food placed next to her was disregarded as she checked each and every part of her body- from wiggling her toes, to lifting her arms over her head. When she finished, Hermione took in a sharp breath, and pushed herself off the bed. It took a moment to get used to being back on her feet, and the cold tile and thin gown she was sporting didn't make her experience any more comforting.

Her first steps took a moment to get a hold of. She had her hands slightly outstretched to her sides, to keep her balance. It wasn't an easy task, after being in a corpse-like state for however many days, thankfully, her body was completely healed, with no pain left anywhere.

But now what was left for her to do? The students would have been awake by now- at least most of them. Was this a weekend? Were there classes? What was going to happen now? Hermione sat down and thought about things for a moment. Since there was no sounds coming from outside of the infirmary, she assumed it was a weekend, and she knew for sure that she was in the middle of a school year, because she saw the marauders the day or week or whatever before. But as for what would happen to her, she didn't know the answer. She would even bet that Professor Dumbledore wouldn't know the answer to her question either. For now, Hermione would have to settle with what she already knew and be content with it.

She shivered at a slight draft that come through an open window and rubbed her arms with her hands before looking around her for any clothes. Sure enough, at the bottom of the white iron bed was a pile of neatly folded clothes, with a pair of shoes resting on top of them, and her wand on top of that. Hermione inspected her wand with a weary eye, because Merlin knows what could have happened to it since she came here. It was still the same dark wood, reasonably bendy… in fact, it looked as it had before the war, when she was still in school. She made a mental note to ask Dumbledore about it when she saw him again.

As she put her clothes on- grey sweats, a black jumper, black flats and a few rubber bands for her hair, she reveled in how soft and comfortable it was. Her long, curly, and clean hair (washing her hair before was a luxury that no one was able to afford) was in a high pony tail, with only a few of her shorter strands falling irritatingly in front of her face. The shoes were flexible, and although they looked thin, they provided a nice padding for her feet.

The door opened with a great creaking sound, and in walked a dark haired boy, with three others, followed by a bustling Madam Pomfrey.

"Madam Pomfrey! I'm fine! Right as rain, really!" The dark haired boy cried out, but the blood coating the side of his face told Hermione otherwise. She stood awkwardly by her bed and watched the commotion.

"Potter!" Hermione had to take a sharp breath, at Madam Pomfrey scolded the boy, "You and I both know you are anything but fine! The school year has just started, it's only 6:30 in the bloody morning and I don't want this to be a repeat of last year- thirty-seven visits! Absolutely ridiculous. And you- Black, thirty-nine! This is nothing to be snickering about!" Hermione caught in the corner of her eye the matching grins the two boys exchanged, silently congratulating themselves and each other. "And Pettigrew, you had twelve! It's not normal!" Lupin was not included in the scolding- his visits would've, of course, been mostly comprised his recovery from the full moon. "And now, Potter, the fourth day of your sixth year, and you've already come into the hospital! What do you have to say for yourself?"

James adopted a mock-thoughtful expression on his face as he was pushed towards a bed two down from hers, "Are you sure I only had thirty-seven? I was really aiming to beat Sirius this year!"

Madam Pomfrey just exhaled and shook her head, and it was then she seemed to notice Hermione standing. "Dear? Is there anything wrong? It is _so_ good to see you on your feet finally."

Hermione licked her lips before answering. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you for healing me." She pointedly ignored the faces of the Marauders, who each kept a suspicious, but curious eye on her. It was hard to keep a friendly smile on her face when she wanted nothing more than to tell them to run and get out while they still could. "I was hoping to get out for a bit." When Madam Pomfrey only smiled in return, she added, "Talk to Dumbledore, perhaps."

The nurse replied kindly, "Of course dear. But you don't know your way around the castle, do you?" It was a rhetorical question, but Hermione's first instinct was to reply, 'of course I do, I am a student here, after all.' But it was 1976, and technically, she hadn't been born yet, and Harry and Ron weren't here and Voldemort was on the rise for the first time, so she kept silent as Madam Pomfrey looked at the three boys surrounding James' bedside, openly listening to their conversation. "Hm, Black!"

"Yes ma'am," Sirius replied, with a mock salute.

"Please accompany Miss…" Madam Pomfrey furrowed her brows.

"Granger," Hermione supplied, before she could stop herself. "Hermione Granger." _Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should've given them a fake name. Merlin knows what I've changed for the future. _

"Ah, yes, please accompany Miss Granger to Professor Dumbledore's office. And you two, Lupin and Pettigrew, get out! It's not visiting hours!" The boys in question jumped and then left the office with nods of their heads, leaving a pouting, and still bleeding, James Potter, while Sirius strutted towards Hermione.

"Sirius Black, at your service, love," Sirius gave a large, extravagant bow, "It's a pleasure to meet you," He was just as handsome as everyone had said he was, with a structured jaw line, perfect lips, long dark hair, and a fit body.

Hermione pursed her lips. She knew exactly what Sirius was in his school- a real ladies' man. There is no way she could become one of his conquests, there was too much to do, so many things to fix. "Hello, Hermione Granger." She replied curtly.

Sirius seemed slightly put out at her response, he seemed more accustomed to replies consisting of swoons and giggles. He quickly gathered himself, and outstretched his arm.

With a roll of her eyes, and a blind eye towards his arm, Hermione walked beside him as he led her out to Dumbledore.

"So, what brings you to Hogwarts, my lady?" Sirius asked, with what seemed to be his most charming smile on.

It took every bit of self restraint that she could muster up within herself, not to giggle girlishly and fall into his waiting arms. Sometimes, she really felt like a hormonal teenager. However, she reminded herself, there was no time for that nonsense now, so she composed herself before answering. "That's classified," She replied, and then added, just to piss him off, "love."

The rest of the five minute walk was held in silence, until they reached a small, spiraling staircase with two stone gargoyles in front of it. Both of the gargoyle's heads turned to face them, and one spoke, "Password?"

"Fizzing Whizbees." Said Sirius confidently. The gargoyles moved over so they could both just squeeze through.

"How do you know the password?" Hermione asked as they climbed the short set of stairs.

"Trade secret, love," he winked.

They reached the top of the stairs and before them was Dumbledore's office, with Dumbledore nowhere in sight. It was just as Hermione remembered it: Fawkes still perched on a golden stand right next to the grand mahogany desk, which sat in front of an elaborate gold and purple chair, the walls were lined with books and portraits of former headmasters, each nook and cranny was taken up by some strange artifact. Even with no one truly occupying the room, it seemed so alive.

"I'm glad to see you're already making friends Miss Granger," Dumbledore came up from behind her and Sirius, in his royal purple night robes, causing both of them to jump.

"Well, hello there Albus!" Sirius greeted cheerily. Hermione eyebrows rose in surprise- has the boy never heard of respect?

Dumbledore smiled, "Good morning Sirius, while I am glad to know you regard me as your friend, let's stick to our proper terms in the company of others, shall we?"

"Of course," he replied, before adding, "Professor." The two smiled at each other with a shared joke.

"Where is Mister Potter, I don't believe I've ever seen the two of you apart."

"Quidditch accident, sir. We're looking to break our hospital visits record this year."

"Quidditch, you say?" Dumbledore stroked his long grey beard thoughtfully, "How silly of me, I didn't think Quidditch had started just yet."

"It hasn't." Sirius grinned proudly, and Dumbledore chuckled. They then fell in to a comfortable silence and Hermione saw her opening to question Dumbledore.

"I was wondering, sir, what will happen to me now, I mean, with my," she took a quick glance at Sirius, "situation. Also, what happened to my wand?"

"I had your wand mended by Ollivander down in Diagon Alley, and Miss Granger, your parents death, it's not just a situation!" Hermione nodded her head, realizing where he was going, "You were lucky to come out of Voldemort's attack alive! Don't you agree Sirius? You saw the state she was in that night," Dumbledore exclaimed convincingly.

"Yes sir, we were all so scared for her," Sirius replied. _Curious was more like it, _she thought to herself. Hermione could tell he was already itching to tell his friends everything he had found about her.

"I think it only makes sense to keep you here as a student. You're seventeen, correct?" Hermione opened her mouth to deny it, but caught sight of herself in the mirror, properly this time, and saw her younger-looking face. Had he glamoured her? She shook the thought out of her head for the time being and focused back on Dumbledore. "Therefore, you can join Sirius and his friends, who I'm sure you've already met, as a sixth year. We can host a sorting ceremony for you later today, so that we can figure out exactly where you belong. How does that sound to you?"

"Perfect," she replied. And it was. This was exactly the chance she needed to change the future. Staying close to Dumbledore and the Marauders. Because it was by the end of it all, it was the five of them and Voldemort that decided so much of Harry's future.

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	4. quatre

_quatre._

The time between the meeting with Dumbledore and an incredibly gossipy Sirius, to the Sorting Ceremony, passed without incident. Hermione was introduced to all the professors at the school, and her situation was explained- she and her half-blood family were attacked by Voldemort and his followers, and only she survived. She was attending Hogwarts as a favor by Dumbledore to Hermione's late father, and she would be spending her breaks at Hogwarts and, when necessary, at the Potters, who were trusted friends of Dumbledore.

The professors accepted her with little question. The story was airtight, and Hermione had already decided that she would have to be placed in either Slytherin or Gryffindor in order to change enough of the past to truly affect the future. She was a firm believer in house unity and equality, however, the pull of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were nonexistent in the future compared to other two houses.

She still hadn't gotten a chance to be around any people her age, not counting her encounter with the Marauders earlier that day, and her (hopefully) short time in the spotlight was coming closer. Her sorting was to be during dinner, probably in the middle.

At around seven o clock in the evening, Hermione walked in to the Great Hall. All the students and professors were already seated for dinner, and this time, her entrance wasn't dramatic at all. In fact, it took a couple minutes for all the students to notice their mysterious new arrival. Thankfully, those couple minutes were enough for Hermione to take a seat at the empty end of the Gryffindor table (where she sat purely out of habit) and put food on her plate.

The students' chattering stopped as they watched her eat a piece of chicken dripping with gravy. Dumbledore took advantage of the momentary calm and walked up to the podium. He didn't need the help of the Sonorus Charm to enhance his voice, it seemed as though the silence was enough to help him speak out to them. Everyone's heads turned to face their headmaster.

"Hello, I'd like to announce the arrival of our newest student, Miss Hermione Granger." He beamed. "I hope you'll all join me in welcoming Miss Granger with open arms. And now, in order to truly make her part of our family here at Hogwarts, we will be sorting her tonight. Miss Granger? If you please."

Hermione made her way up to the podium wearily. Her footsteps echoed in the unusually quiet hall and she was aware of every eye staring holes into her back. She could especially feel the eyes quietly curious eyes of the Marauders burning into her.

She reached the top and picked the hat off the stool and sat. The stool was uncomfortably small- made only for the tiny first years that are usually the only ones to have a chance to sit on it. Hermione put the hat on top of her head and noticed how much better it fit, now that she had a normal, adult-sized head. Before, when she was eleven, it almost covered her entire face.

The hat seemed more aware of her than it did before, most likely because it sensed that she was an outsider, that didn't belong.

_A brave one, I see. _Hermione jumped at the familiar voice, although she expected it. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the stares of all the people around her. What the Sorting Hat could tell her could be important. _Let's take a look. Undoubtedly brilliant, you've broken into Gringotts, didn't break under torture, solved one of the oldest riddles of Wizarding time, you're strong, kind, a great leader. You're certainly not making this easy on me. _

Hermione rolled her eyes, the hat had said something familiar the first time she had been sorted, although her accomplishments hadn't been quite so grand at the time.

_Of course, there is only one place in this school you'd ever truly belong, and that'd be- _"GRYFFINDOR!" Hermione opened her eyes and smiled. The Gryffindor table cheered and banged their goblets against the tables as she made her way down to them. She sat next to a kind looking girl with dark hair and a cute dimple on each cheek.

"Hello," the girl beamed, "I'm Alice!"_ Alice Longbottom, Neville's mom, _Hermione realized. "Hello, I'm Hermione," she replied. Hermione stuck out her hand, but Alice engulfed her in a tight hug, that lasted several seconds, when Alice finally released her she began speaking at a rapid pace.

"I'm so happy to have another girl in Gryffindor! This year we are positively lacking! It's only you, me, Marlene McKinnon, Lily Evans, Dorcas Meadowes and Mary MacDonald! Ridiculous! Of course now we can finally match to the boys! Well, not quite! But it's enough for me! You look to be about my age, yes? Sixth year?" Alice questioned excitedly. Hermione nodded but was distracted quickly by a swish of red hair that flashed into view and she knew in her gut what would come next.

Lily Evans.

"Hullo," the red-head smiled down at her. Of course, she was everything that people thought and said of her, and more. She had emerald-green eyes, _eyes so much like Harry's that they made her heart bleed_, long, neatly parted red hair, and pale, lightly freckled skin, and she was dressed in an immaculately pressed Hogwarts uniform. "I'm Lily Evans."

Hermione smiled back, "I'm Hermione Granger." _I'm also your son's best friend, and I know your future and I can stop all the things that are coming your way from happening, and I will. I will save you._

"How are you enjoying Hogwarts so far?" Lily asked as she took her seat next to Hermione.

"It's wonderful." Hermione responded, scooping up some mashed potatoes that had appeared moments earlier on the table, and dropping them on to her plate. "Positively magical."

Alice and Lily laughed out loud, "That was awful, like, truly a terrible joke," pealed Alice.

Hermione shrugged, "Humor was never really my strong suit. I am more of the books and cleverness type. I tended to leave the jokes to Ro- my friends."

Neither girl seemed to notice her slight stumble on words, thankfully. Instead, Alice had taken it upon herself to tell her about all the other Gryffindor students in their year.

"So, that one there is Peter Pettigrew, he's not like the others. At all." Alice shared a look with Lily, who shook her head slightly.

"He's sweet enough Al, and quite nice to talk to if you give him a chance." Lily remarked. Hermione seriously doubted this, but she made no indication of her disgust with the boy who would tear her best friend's parents away from him. "They don't all have to be like James and Sirius!"

"They're not! Which brings me to… Remus Lupin. He's so kind!" She directed her hand towards a tall sandy blonde, who was sitting near his friends reading a book, "He's also really intelligent! I never understood why he hangs out with the others- he's just so _good_. This is where Sirius Black comes in." Alice pointed towards the dark haired boy who seemed to be charming his food to have a sword fight. "He's quite funny, but a huge flirt! And finally, James Potter!"

Hermione nodded along as Alice spoke, interested, there was so much to learn about the Marauders. Before they were separated and some were glorified, while others condemned, they were just boys. Boys who teased, and laughed, a lot like the way she, Ron, and Harry had.

Lily had begun to take a particular interest in the potatoes as Alice told Hermione of James' near-obsession with Lily. According to the chatty pixie-haired girl, James Potter had hopelessly pined after Lily since they began Hogwarts, and had professed his love to her countless times, and all in public, crowded places. And, without fail, she would reject him, first softly and kindly, and then, as time progressed, as harshly as she could possibly manage. Her main reason for her somewhat befuddling rejection of Gryffindor's star quidditch player, a boy whose looks and obvious charisma had garnered him lots of his much desired attention, was Lily's best friend, Severus Snape.

Hermione was not shocked by this piece of information, as she and Harry had learned all about it by looking through the memories that he had handed them right before his death. She could understand the single-minded devotion that they gave to one another simply for being two kids who were outcast in their own homes because they were different.

She looked over past the other tables to see Snape, who had been somewhat warily eyeing her as he saw her talking to Lily. She smiled at him tentatively, just as a cordial and friendly gesture, but he narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, before turning his hooked nose down and back to his meal.

Hermione sighed heavily as she tried to listen or at least appear she was listening to a rather lengthy anecdote by Alice, who showed no signs of finishing. Snape was a figure in this time that she would have to help; his happiness could be the missing link in the future that could fix some things. She'd have to think about all his choices and the choices of those around him to see what lead to his falling out with Lily and his affiliations with Death Eaters. It would be a lot of work…

"-mione! Hermione! Are you okay?" Alice waved one of her hands in Hermione's face. Around them, all the students were standing up and making their way through the large doors and up to their common rooms. "Do you need to go to the infirmary? I was talking and all of a sudden you totally went glazed over."

"Yeah, I'm sorry Alice." Hermione said, ashamed. She then looked at the now almost empty hall, "Is it time to go to the common room?"

"Yeah, we really should get going," Lily said, finishing the last of her potatoes. They got up from the benches and made their way up to the Gryffindor common room.

The Fat Lady's Portrait sat regally in front of the common room just the way Hermione remembered it. When Lily finally spoke the password and the grand door slowly swung open, Hermione could barely breathe.

The fire was warming the room all around, the carpets looked as soft as it had before, and the chairs and couches in front of the fire where she and the boys used to sit and conspire, but now sat others, people she had never seen before, people she was never supposed to meet. No one paid her any attention as she slowly drank in the comfort, warmth and familiarity of the room.

Before Lily or Alice said anything she walked further in, her hand lightly grazing the chairs and a soft-looking blanket laying on them. How is it possible that everything had stayed exactly as she remembered it?

She looked around the room and spotted a familiar head of messy black hair sitting on a chair, his back facing her. Hermione cried it out before she could stop herself- "Harry!" She immediately clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide and frozen. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Merlin, where was her self control. The shaggy black haired head turned to reveal hazel eyes behind glasses, not the emerald green she had so longed for.

"Hermione?" Lily's voice came from behind her, "Hermione, there's no Harry here."

"Who is Harry?" Alice asked inquisitively, her hand squeezing Hermione's shoulder.

She sharply shrugged it off, and snapped, "No one." Hermione sighed, feeling instantly guilty, and turned from the approaching James. "I'm sorry, I think I'm just tired."

Alice smiled, unsure, "It's ok, I shouldn't have asked anyways. It was really none of my business."

A voice in Hermione's head (was it Ron's?) agreed.

"What's happening here?" James had walked to them, and Hermione instantly regretted the moment she turned to face him. Up close, he was even more like Harry, with his wild hair and angular face and boyish smile and it's already more than she can take. She immediately turns her head to face something else, anything else, and her eye catches that of Sirius'. He's less familiar to her, but still not a stranger. But when he walks up to them as well she wishes she had looked at something else instead, a clock, or a throw, maybe. Instead, she looks back at James and smiles at him, the best smile she can muster up considering the situation.

"Not much."

"Us girls are just heading upstairs to go to sleep, good night Potter, Black." Lily, bless her heart had obviously noticed she was distressed.

"What?" Sirius looked scandalized, but Hermione was glad for the redirect in conversation. "It's only 9, think of all the great things we can do between now and tomorrow's first class!"

Lily rolled her eyes, "Like sleep? Besides I think Hermione would like a good night's sleep before her first class tomorrow."

"Well, I can think of a few things we could be doing tonight…" James winked at her suggestively.

Lily blushed profusely, but quickly snapped her head away from his view and made a declaration, "We're going now. Good night." She grabbed Hermione's hand and gave Alice a look that meant business. She led a march up to the girls' dormitory.

"At least I know what you'll be dreaming about tonight Evans!" James laughed.

"Shut it Potter!" Lily proceeded to drag Hermione up the remaining stairs, with an amused Alice trailing behind her.

She slammed the door of their dormitory shut, and threw herself onto one of the six beds.

The dormitories were also the same as they had been (or was it will be?). There were 6 beds, all four-posters, lined up beside one another. They were decorated in scarlet curtains and white sheets. Opposite them were six armoires and dressers, complete with a mirror. Each, except for one which Hermione assumed was hers, was covered in pictures, jewelry, and different hair and makeup products. Clothes were strewn across the floor, and pictures and posters were plastered across the walls. There was a little record player on the corner opposite to the door, with stacks and stacks of records surrounding it. Windows were between each of the beds, all were caved in and had a small shelf or sitting area in them; Crookshanks had loved to sit in those.

It looked like a mess, albeit a familiar one. Hermione remembered a time when it was her, Pavarti, Lavender and several others who had been sharing jewelry and makeup. Actually, she had not been involved in those things at all. Instead she had chosen to sit on her bed, desk, or in the library and study, but she had still associated these things with her old dorm mates.

Lily took a seat on what must have been her bed and patted the open bed to her left, which was also the one closest to the door and already had stacks of books and several Hogwarts uniforms neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Placed on the impeccable but still somehow warmly enticing bed, was a card. In cursive it read:

_Ms. Granger, _

_Welcome to your dormitory. I am sure you have been properly welcomed by your fellow housemates. I am aware of your lack of day clothes, as a Hogwarts uniform can only be worn so many times in a week, so I wished to make you aware of the upcoming Hogsmeade trip, which will be taking place this upcoming weekend. Your funds have all been deposited into a Gringotts account, and are available to you at your discretion._

_Professor Dumbledore_

_P.S. Should you feel the need to talk, about anything, please bring with you a chocolate frog. I have been having quite a craving those as of late._

She suppressed a giggle; she didn't want the girls to ask about the letter. Is this what it was like for Harry when he had been receiving these letters from Dumbledore during class? At least there was something that was able to stay as a constant throughout all the time that Hermione had known Dumbledore- He had an incorrigible sweet tooth.

A little detail like that, one she previously used to shake her head at, was so unbelievably comforting. Dumbledore was someone she could trust to stay the same.

She tucked the letter in the narrow crevice between her bed and the mattress before indicating to Lily that she would be changing in to her pajamas.

"What?" Lily protested. "We were just getting the night started! Most of the girls haven't even come up yet," she indicated to the row of empty beds.

Hermione hesitated before answering, "I suppose I could stay up for just a little while longer?" she smiled tentatively before being smacked in the face with a pillow that came from a laughing Lily. "Here I was thinking you were a goody two-shoes, but I guess we're all wrong sometimes," Hermione teased, throwing the pillow back at Lily.

Lily blushed, "I am, usually, I suppose, but today's a different kind of day. You came, and we're already friends. I don't want to lose out any time we could spend together because you came so late. I do consider work and school to be vital, but friends are infinitely more important to me."

Hermione was touched. As a younger girl, although she would have verbally disagreed with Lily, she knew that she was just the same- She would do anything for her friends. Merlin knows it was the only reason she got in to Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw.

"Lily, I promise you, we're going to spend a lot of time together, but right now I'm completely knackered, so I'll see you in the morning for class." She got into her bed and reveled in the soft linens and the just-right firmness of the bed. This was a luxury not afforded to her in times of war. She tucked her wand underneath her pillow, just in case of an emergency. After doing so, she allowed her eyes to flutter shut, and sleep quickly conquered her.

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